Me and My Car
by Lenovi
Summary: Mallory Destin and her Dodge Challenger get transported to a new world and become involved in the death of the Lone Wanderer. Soon, Mallory finds herself fighting for her life in a world that isn't even close to the one she left behind. Rating may change
1. Those Darned Aliens

Author's Notes: Only my second story, so bear with me folks. ^^ Not beta'd either, so beware the mistakage. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

I had a dream the other night,  
And as the dream unfurled,

I took a trip in a rocket ship,  
And I found another world!

They told me about their captain,  
'Said I should ask him "Could I Stay!"

I said "Take me to the Captain!"  
And Tell Him why I'm here!  
I want to stay in your world,  
While my world dissapears.

_-Take Me to the Captain - Prism_

Chapter 1

There was once a time I, Mallory Destin considered myself a normal, well-to-do, girl. At the young age of 22, I owned my own accounting firm, a cottage on the shores of Sebec Lake in Maine, and an expensive condo in New York City. I had it all, the life and luxury so many dreamt about, and few experienced. Perhaps the only thing I really was missing from my life was some iota of excitement, a change from the mundane lifestyle I'd grown accustomed to. But, really, a little boredom never hurt anyone before, right? Right. And I was perfectly happy to live my life as it was, no matter how boring or uneventful it seemed to be. Excitement was for other people, people who weren't trying to manage a firm, get their hair done, and make it to their manicurist on time. I wasn't built for a life of excitement, it just wasn't me, wasn't who I was. It wasn't what I wanted for myself.

But it also wasn't like I knew that saying. You know, the one that goes: 'you don't always get what you want'...

The 'event', what I like to call that little thing that changed my life forever, took place on a warm Saturday in June, I can't be bothered to remember the exact date and time, but I know it happened late in the day, around evening. The place, however, is pretty much ingrained into my memory for good, and even to this day I get a little squeamish when I approach that particular intersection...

oOoOoOoOoOo

Mallory was, in every sense of the word, happy. She cruised along in her Dodge Challenger, windows down, wind in her hair, all troubles and worries tossed aside. It was a beautiful afternoon, and she'd finished her errands for the day. Time to kick back and relax, and nothing said relax better than a bag of Chinese food take-out. She fiddled with her iPod, trying to find a good driving song and eventually settling on anything sung by Boston. She reached an intersection with a red light and took the opportunity to root in her bag of take-out for a spring roll, cursing as the light chose that particular moment to turn green. Perhaps she'll indulge her craving at the next light, when the car behind her wasn't so pushy.

It seemed God was finally on her side when the car behind her turned off before the next intersection, leaving her alone on a flat stretch of highway, broken only by the occasional traffic light. About a half-hour more of driving and she'll be at her cottage... if the event hadn't taken place, that is.

It was at that red light, that stretch of lonely road, where her life took a far more exciting turn. Mallory had just reached into her bag of food and plucked up a spring roll when a blinding light engulfed her.

The sheer intensity of the light left her disoriented and confused. She squeezed her eyes shut, blotting out the light, and silently prayed that she wouldn't die. She tried to come up with an explanation for the sudden explosion of brightness, this blinding ray of light in the middle of nowhere. She didn't think any headlights could be able to get that bright so it probably wasn't a car. Perhaps it was an explosion? Perhaps a street lamp exploded, or maybe a power line snapped?

But then she felt the earth shaking- no, rumbling beneath her car. It was as if the whole earth was vibrating and she was right above the epicentre, as if she and her car were atop the focus of a fierce earthquake. The shaking seemed to increase in strength, until she was certain her very bones were going to liquidize as she sat. She clutched the steering wheel desperately, spring roll slowly becoming a pulverized mush in her hand, as the shaking increased even more. Her car lurched back and forth from the tremors and knees knocked together. Whatever this was, she surely wasn't going to survive it.

Just as Mallory began to expect to see her life flash before her eyes, the shaking subsided. The spine wrenching vibration had been reduced to that same rumble she felt earlier. Though that darned light was still glaring her in the face, it felt as though the worst of it was over. Whatever 'it' was...

She was still trying to come to terms with the phenomenon when her car began to slowly inch forward, as if dragged by some unseen force. She pressed both feet on the brake, throwing her entire weight into trying to keep her, and her car, from heading towards the light. 'I know what this is!' she thought, stomping repeatedly on the brake pedal as her car continued to drag along. 'This is _the_ light, this is the last thing I will ever see before I pass on to the other side'.

If only she could be so lucky.

Instead of the other side, she felt a wave of nausea and vertigo as her car seemed to leave the ground completely, yanked forward and upward by that unseen force. The intensity of the light increased several-fold, blinding her even through her eyelids. She felt a whoosh of warm wind through her window, blistering heat, and then it was over. She felt and heard the crush of gravel as her car was reunited with ground, though it was still moving very quickly. She was thrown about a bit as her car ran over some uneven ground, heard a thick thud as it hit something and mowed on over it, before coming to a stop. And the world was silent and dim once more.

'I've been abducted by aliens', she thought, struggling to calm her breathing. 'They picked me up and dropped me somewhere. Probably in the middle of a crop circle or something... I am _so_ screwed now... What do you even _do_ when abducted by aliens?'

She chanced a peek and opened her left eye, and quickly opened the right one as well as she gaped at her new surroundings. The lonely traffic light she was stopped at earlier was nowhere to be seen. In fact, nothing in this new world was familiar to her. The land was absolutely devoid of any green vegetation, the only plants here were brown shrubs and dead, blackened trees. Occasionally a few sparse patches of yellowed grass sprung up. The ground everywhere was the same tired shade of light brown, and it appeared to be as dry as a bone, with dust clouds being whipped up by even the gentlest of breezes. Almost everything seemed to sport a coating of that thin, fine dust. Even the air smelled tired and dead, and lacked the fresh feeling she was accustomed to. The only way she could truly describe this place, was dead. Everything here from the ground to the air that flowed over it was dead. Dead or dying.

"Nevada," she whispered, wide eyes sweeping over the desolate landscape. "The aliens have dropped me in Nevada..."

"Get out here, NOW!" she jumped as an angry, raspy voice yelled from behind her car. She flailed and flung herself to the ground as the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked accompanied said angry voice. "This is your final warning," it threatened in a low and dangerous tone, and Mallory gave a terrified squeak as she cowered beside the dashboard. "I'll give you three seconds to get out here. One...two..."

Because she really didn't feel like dying that day, and because she didn't get carried across the continent by aliens just to get killed by some angry hill-billy, Mallory opened the driver's side door and inched out of the safety of her car, hands raised over her head in surrender. She didn't know what her assailant wanted, only that she would probably give him almost anything if it meant staying alive.

"Please," she begged, keeping her eyes down. She'd read somewhere that you weren't supposed to look criminals in the eye, that was true, right?. "I don't want any trouble, I don't even know how I got here, I just..."

She trailed off as she caught a streak of red out of the corner of her eye, underneath the rear end of her Challenger. She slowly turned her head to the rear of her car, following the streak as it pooled under the rear axel. There was an awfully large pool of red stuff just behind the rear wheels, and though she had a sickening feeling she knew what all that red stuff was, she couldn't stop looking at it. It was like a trainwreck, something one never wanted to see, but can't stop staring at. She followed the lake of red to its source, a brown-ish lump laying awkwardly behind the rear wheels. It took her a few full seconds to finally realize that the lump was actually a person.

She had run someone over.

"Ohmigawd!" she squealed, weapon wielding assailant all but forgotten as she dropped her hands and rushed over to the person. She flailed her hands over the body, not quite sure what to do in such a situation. She'd never really paid much heed to those free first-aid courses they offered in school since she could never see herself ever needing them, but here she was, faced with a dead or even dying person. Should she pull the victim out from under the car? What about internal bleeding? Should she use CPR? These and other thoughts were rushing through her mind, other thoughts like 'Only in Nevada for a few minutes and I already kill someone, damn those aliens'.

"She's already dead," the raspy voice from earlier ground out, voice laden with anger. She spun around, remembering the reason she got out of the car in the first place. Perhaps this gunman was the real reason for the body under her car, did she get dropped in the middle of a crime scene? Would he kill her now? Probably, she was a witness, afterall. Her gaze focused primarily on the weapon being pointed at her head, a shotgun with a drum, and then she moved her attention onto the person wielding it.

And promptly clapped both hands to her mouth in horror. Her assailant was, arguably, worse off than the body lying under her car. His skin was red and blotchy, as though he was covered in a large rash. It was even pealing in places, revealing the red sheen of muscle between patches of skin. The top of his head was mostly bald, with flakes of skin peeling off and sparse clumps of hair just clinging by their roots. His eyes were also clouded over, almost like a corpse's, though still sharp with cunning. This man or zombie, or whatever he was, was very, very dangerous. That much she knew for certain.

"Please don't kill me," she gasped, completely certain now that the body she found wasn't her fault, that this zombified gunman was to blame. Just look at the dang gun he had! Could pop someone's head like a zit. She squeaked at the very thought of her own head meeting the same fate. "You can take whatever you want, even the car, just point me towards a pay phone or cell phone service and you'll never hear of me again, I swear!" she yelped ducking her head slightly as the shotgun was raised higher, pointed menacingly right between her eyes. "Or, hey, forget about the phones," she snuffed, chancing a glance towards the gunman. "Just let me go and I'll find my own way. Just don't kill me!"

"What makes you think I want to kill you?" he rasped, eyes narrowed suspiciously at her. The glint of cunning was still there, along with something else. Amusement? Oh great, he thought this was funny. A murderer with a sense of humor, exactly what she wanted to meet out in the middle of nowhere.

"Oh, I dunno," Mallory sniffed, and realized at this point that she was crying. This entire situation was getting to be a bit too much for her, she didn't handle stress well at all. "Maybe because you have a gun pointed at my head, and that," she pointed with a shaking index finger at the body. "That doesn't help my cause. You killed them-, her, right?"

"No," the man seemed taken aback at the comment, and even lowered his gun as he blinked at her in shock. "That's your doing," he nodded towards the body, "why the Hell do you think I told you to get out of your car?" He frowned at her, earlier shock replaced by the anger she saw earlier. "You can't just go around mowing people down without expecting some repercussions, especially out here, and especially her," Mallory glanced back down at the body, which seemed to be clothed in some sort of thick leather garment. "You do know who she is, right?"

"Um..." Mallory glanced back up, biting her lower lip under the critical glare of Mr. Flaky. How could she know who that girl was? She _just_ got there for crying out loud! "No, sorry, I'm not...I'm not from around these parts, I have no idea who she is."

"Figures," the man sighed, shaking his head almost disgustedly. "If you knew, you'd probably be way more worried about your future. That girl you ran over just so happens to be the Lone Wanderer, someone with quite the reputation out here. And with that reputation, comes friends, and you," he grinned, and Mallory was certain she could see the barest hint of amusement in his clouded eyes. "You don't have enough friends in the universe to get you of of the trouble you're in."


	2. Not in Kansas Anymore

**Author's Note**: Sorry about the long wait for an update, folks. ^^; The holidays caught me off guard and then the New Year and then Valentine's Day and...yeah. Anyway, here's chapter two, once again un-beta'd so excuse any mistakes. They can't hurt you, don't worry.  
...I'll shut up and write, like a good little author now.

* * *

I don't know where to go  
I don't know what to be  
I don't know how to change from being me  
I don't know what to say  
Maybe another day  
I'll stop getting lost and find my way, home  
All I know is gone...

_-I Don't Know -LostProphets_

Chapter 2

The strange, rotting, gun wielding man identified himself as 'Charon', adding that he was also a ghoul. Though I didn't have a very good idea what exactly a 'ghoul' was, he certainly looked like one, in my opinion. Though, that didn't change the fact that he was currently my only means of salvation out here. He knew what he was doing. Me? ...Not so much. It had become agonizingly clear to me that I had gotten myself into some deep doo-doo and, this time, I had no lawyers or attorneys to save my sorry hide. I was on my own. Lost in some strange land, which probably wasn't Nevada, with a flaky, scary guy and a dead body. Though it sounded more like a bad comedy than reality, it was real, all too real, and it frightened me, like nothing had ever frightened me before. I had no idea what Charon planned to do with me. For all I knew, he was planning a very painful, gory, end for me. After all, I had just killed his partner, and my useless, survival skills-lacking self would only be a nuisance to him, so why keep me around? Either way, I had to keep my head, and just try to stay calm.

Neither of which I was particularly good at.

oOoOoOoOoOo

It would be so easy for her to flee, take the car and bolt away into the flat yonder, but Mallory didn't think that would be the best course of action for her to take right now. Instead she huddled in the driver's seat of her Challenger, gazing blankly out the open door at the flat expanse of dusty earth, and nibbled nervously on a cold chicken ball. All the while, trying to ignore Charon as he stripped the body of the strange woman of all its belongings.

"Here," the raspy voice broke the awkward silence. A pile of clothes landed unceremoniously beside the car. "Put these on."

Mallory blinked down at the blood stained, grubby garments. "Why?"

"Because you'll stick out like a sore thumb in what you're wearing now."

"But..." she slid from the driver's seat, beside the clothes, and tentatively poked at a long leather coat. It was grubby, stained all sorts of lovely colours, and stunk to high heaven. "But they're all covered in blood."

"...And your point is?"

"I don't want to wear bloody clothes, thank you very much," she huffed, sitting back in her car. She may be stranded in the middle of no man's land, but she still had standards. "Isn't there anything clean?"

"Sorry, but you're outta luck," 'Charon' sighed in frustration, placing the rest of the deceased woman's items in a pack. "That's all she had on her, clothing-wise at least. If you wanna stay alive, I don't see any other options."

She blinked confusedly at him. "How in the world are bloody clothes going to keep me alive?" Mallory asked, frowning down at the sorry pile, nose wrinkling in disgust at the very thought of even touching them again. "Surely we could just visit the nearest Sheriff's office and get this all sorted out, right? And by the end of the day, we'd have gone our own ways and you'd never see me again."

"As wonderful as that sounds, it's impossible," he answered. "There is no Sheriff's office. Unless you count Simms, and he doesn't have an office, nor would he really pay any mind to your side of the story."

"Wait... No Sheriff's office?" she turned her gaze back to the ghoul. "And what do you mean this Simms fellow won't listen to me? Where the Hell am I?"

"The Capital Wasteland," Charon answered, rolling his milky eyes as though she had asked the most asinine question in history. "And you aren't in any position to go running off to people for help right now."

"Then why are you helping me?"

The question had bothered her for quite some time. Certainly, this Charon fellow had some connection to the woman she mowed down, and he probably wasn't too impressed with her, judging from his current attitude. So why help her? Now that she had voiced it, the man grew awfully quiet. "Because," he finally sighed, "I don't have much choice."

"Why?"

"_Why_?" Charon frowned. "Why are you asking more questions than a small child? It's a long story. And this certainly isn't the time or place for it." He stood up and pulled the body towards to an outcropping of rocks and dead bushes, moving the dry foliage around so it somewhat covered the corpse. "Now get changed so we can get out of here. The longer we hang around, the more dangerous this place gets."

"Wait, shouldn't we...you know..." she gestured lamely towards, the grey corpse. "Uhm...give her a proper burial?"

"...Okay, sure," Charon nodded. "Yeah, you know, that sounds like a great idea."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, yeah. Just let me get my invisible shovel, and while I'm doing that you can find a patch of earth that isn't as dry and solid as a death claw's bones."

"Well you don't have to be so rude about it," Mallory huffed, crossing her arms. "Surely there's something we could do besides just leaving her there. I mean, something could come along and, I dunno, eat her, or something. Maybe we could...cremate her first? Then that wouldd get rid of the evidence too. ...And what's a deathclaw?"

"...First," Charon pointed at her with a flaking index finger. "You ask way too many questions for your own good, so shut up. Second, there's not enough wood here to fuel a fire that hot, and even if there was enough, raiders would notice the smoke right away and before we'd know it, we'd be the quests of honour at a cannibal feast. A few yao guais and a pack of dogs will be all you need to get rid of any evidence, anyway. And third, consider yourself lucky you don't know what a death claw is."

"Oh. Wait, what's a yao-"

"Don't," the ghoul interrupted with an impatient glare. "No more questions, at least not until you do what I say. Now get changed. I bet people can see you from miles away, for God's sake. Never seen a shirt that white before, Pete's sake."

Mallory pouted and gingerly picked up the pile of clothes, before scooting into the back of the car and attempting to get the garments on without getting any of the blood and grime on her skin. After being slightly successful with that, she climbed back into the driver's seat, and picked at her limp, cold chow mein while trying to ignore the putrid stench that lifted from her clothes every time she moved.

"...I can't believe this is happening to me," she muttered darkly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Hell, I don't even know where I am, I'm stranded with some...absolute stranger, and I've accidentally killed someone. And my Chinese food is cold." With a huff, she repackaged her take-out and threw it onto the back seat. "Can things get any worse? I mean, We don't even have a plan."

"Trust me, things can _always_ get worse," Charon opened the passenger side door and settled into the seat, looking somewhat awkward in the cramped space. "And _you_ may not have a plan, but _I_ do. Get this...thing...started up and head East," he laid his shot gun over his lap. "Need to get to Megaton, only safe place close by right now. After that we... Are you even listening?"

Mallory ignored his constant impatient gaze, staring wide eyed at the seat he was currently occupying. Or, more accurately, at any part of the seat that was touching his flaking skin. "You're not going to get anything on my leather seats, right? I mean, it's probably going to be a long way to the nearest auto-detailing shop, and I'd really hate for any stains to get set in... Shutting up now," she squeaked, facing ahead, finally noticing the ghoul's angry glare. "So...uh...which way are we going?"

"You're learning, well done," Charon replied sarcastically. "And I already told you, we're heading East."

"East, right," she stared out the windshield, scanning the barren, desolate wastes. "I got this. Now...does the sun set in the North? Or South?"

"...It sets in the _West_."

"I knew that. So that would make East..." she squinted into the noonday sun. "Hey...how can you tell what direction the sun's moving in? It hurts to look at it for too long."

"Oh for the love of..." Charon face-palmed beside her, wiping tiredly at his cloudy eyes. "East is that way, you dolt!" He growled, pointing towards his right. "Good God, you're useless."

"Oh, I knew that," she started the Challenger and meandered to the right. "Well, that East was that way, not the fact that I'm useless. Though, it's not really a fact, since it's false and all."

Charon seemed to be ignoring her, so she turned her attention back to the road, swallowing nervously. The Challenger crawled on at a careful pace, as she tried to avoid any major bumps or gullies in the ruined road. There were many of them, and in some places the road had disappeared altogether, leaving a deep hollow filled with dust. Dried bushes and dead trees dotted the land, the majority of their limbs stripped away by the wind. The mountains and hills far off in the distance seemed no better, their faces marred with clusters of blackened stumps and large stretches of dusty nothingness. More dust drifted and billowed around as the wind picked up, coating everything in a thick layer of the stuff, lending more to the illusion that the world was dead and gone.

At least, she hoped it was only an illusion.

"What happened out here?"

"Hm?" Charon grunted, sounding almost as though he'd fallen asleep.

"What happened?" she repeated, gesturing to the flat, lifeless earth. "There's no green stuff, no birds, nothing. Just dust."

"Something bad happened," came the sullen reply. "There was a war, a long, long time ago."

"Is that all I get to know, or...?"

"For now. Might hear more when I feel like talking." he grumbled. "For now, just drive."

"Okay, sir," Mallory huffed. "Right away, sir. And would you like any fries with your attitude, or-"

"That's enough."

"Okay," she shut up instantly, once again turning all her attention to the road ahead. The asphalt once again disappeared here, and she slowed the Challenger to an absolute crawl as she negotiated the deep trench.

"Can't this thing go any faster?"

"Oh, of course it can," she nodded. "This is an '08 Hennessey Dodge Challenger, turbo. Baby can do zero to 60 in 3.9 seconds. I just...don't want to scratch it...that's all. Blasphemy to scratch a car like this."

"Mmhm."

Charon didn't say much after that. Either he'd fallen asleep, or had zoned out staring through the passenger side window, elbow propped against the door and flaking chin settled on his hand. The barren land slipped away slowly, like the fading sunlight, and Mallory considered speeding up slightly. She didn't want to be caught out here at night, of that much she was certain.

It wasn't long before the bumpy road eventually disappeared altogether, leaving a flat stretch of gravel and sand. Mallory increased her speed and sped onwards, the rumble of the Challenger's engine filling the once quiet air. It was so unusually silent out here. The world seemed devoid of sound. No crickets, no birds singing their final songs to the setting sun, nothing. Silent as the grave.

She began to wonder if she would ever hear birdsong again. If she would ever find her way back home. She had an unsettling feeling that, wherever this place was, it was a long ways away from anything familiar to her. In fact, she had a feeling she may not even be on the same continent, hell, maybe even the same world. The dread curling through her stomach was intensified as she passed a vehicle on the road, the only vehicle for miles, it seemed. It sat there, unmoving and neglected, rusted and covered in dust and dirt. It had sunk into the ground over the years, tires covered all the way up to the hubcaps and bumpers settled onto the earth. The windows had been long since smashed out, and the interior was nonexistent, having been ripped out by someone, or something. But what really shocked Mallory was the overall appearance of the car. It looked like no car she had ever seen before. A cross between an old Studebaker and...something else. It was streamlined, reminding of her of some of the concept cars she'd seen pictures of back home, along with the wings and curves that vintage cars had. Primitive yet advanced at the same time.

She may not be an expert on cars, but she knew enough about the cars of her...world...to know that this car never existed there. The realization was extremely unnerving and she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Where was this place with the strange cars and lifeless earth? Had the bright light she encountered only hours before transported her to a new dimension? A new universe? If it did, how was she going to get back to her home? Back to her world? What if there wasn't a way to get back? What if she were stranded here, forever?

"Bad Mallory, bad," she whispered to herself. "Don't think like that. You'll be back home before you know it. Just gotta hang in there, and think happy thoughts. Alright? Happy."

But happy thoughts were rather difficult when one was driving through a desolate wasteland with a zombie riding shotgun.

So she continued onward in the dimming light, hesitant to turn on her headlights despite the quickly fading sun light. She still had no idea what...things...could be lurking out there. The light of her headlights would probably attract them like moths to a flame. Besides, it wasn't totally dark just yet, A faint glow still remained on the horizon before them, in the east, and she was thankful for its light, even though she found it odd that the sun still hadn't completely set yet-...No wait, the sun sets in the West, right? ... Which meant...the light she was seeing couldn't be from the sun...

It was something else.

"Charon!" she yelled, stepping on the brake. The Challenger lurched forward as Charon jolted awake, shot gun drawn at the ready despite the cramped quarters of the car.

"What?" he hissed, scanning area for any immediate signs of danger. "What's going on?"

"Uhh..." Mallory pointed towards the light glimmering over the horizon. "There's a freaky light up ahead, and I was wondering what it was, since it couldn't be the sun and...what?" she squeaked as the ghoul glared at her. "It could be dangerous!"

"Dangerous," Charon repeated.

"Yeah! You know, not good. Bad. Mean. _Dangerous_."

"I know what dangerous means!" he snapped. "And that isn't dangerous! That's Megaton, you know, the place we were heading to? Sheesh, woke me up for _that_? Don't they have electricity where you're from? For the love of God, use your head."

"All right, all right, all right, fine," she muttered. "Just being careful, that's all." The Challenger resumed its careful pace towards the flickering light. Charon settled back into a comfortable position, but didn't fall asleep again, instead preferring to stare grumpily out the windshield. Mallory didn't really care, she kept her attention on the road and tried to ignore him, giving the ghoul the cold shoulder. He probably didn't mind, but it made her feel better nonetheless.

The light grew stronger as the Challenger approached a ridge, and meandered along it to the North. The sky was almost completely dark now, save for the light spilling from 'Megaton', and a multitude of stars peppered the sky, surrounding an unbelievably bright moon. They shone bright enough to cast an eerie, yet calming, blue glow over the ground. A white cloud of dust drifted lazily past as the Challenger rounded the ridge, and was completely bathed in the light that emanated from Megaton.

It seemed to sprout from the very Earth itself. A mess of metal sheets covering a haphazard skeleton of metal rods and pipes. It sprouted upwards, walls angling inwards like some long-forgotten shell, half buried in the sand. Light poured forth from random holes in the walls, casting an intricate pattern of shadows over the surrounding land. A dome of light, bright enough to out shine the stars, topped it off.

"Well," Charon's raspy voice broke the silence, "there's Megaton for ya. Largest city in the Capital Wasteland west of downtown."

"It's beautiful."

"Sure it is," the ghoul replied sarcastically. "And I won the Miss America pageant three times in a row."

"But I was ser-"

"Now before we go in there," he interrupted, fixing her with an intense stare, "I'm going to have to lay down some ground rules. Rule number one: No being stupid. That means no freaking out or going 'Ooh what's that?' to every new shiny thing you see. Number two: Follow me. Stay close at all times. Easy to get lost in there and the last thing I need is for you to be running around in there like a chicken with it's head cut off. And three: don't. Say. A. Word. Seriously, you have a very annoying voice and anyone with half a brain can tell you don't belong here. Understood?"

"Uhm, sure," Mallory frowned. "It's just...how's this place supposed to solve my problems? People are going to wonder why you don't have that other girl with you, so I'm going to seem kinda suspicious."

"No, you're not."

"Oh? And how do you figure that?"

"Because, you're wearing the exact same outfit she was. As long as no one pays you much mind, you should be able to slip in there, no problem. And then we can get to work on the rest of your ruse."

"Ruse? Ruse? Wait, wait a second here," she blinked. "What do you mean 'ruse'? Who exactly am I going to have to trick?"

"Well, pretty much everyone."

"What? Everyone? Are you serious?"

"If you want to stay alive, then yes. Everyone."

"Why do I have to trick anyone? I mean, shouldn't I be more concerned with running for the hills than trying to trick folks?"

"It's an extremely simple idea, but I suppose I could explain it to you anyway," Charon sighed tiredly, massaging the bridge of his nose. "The Lone Wanderer, the girl you mowed down, can't be dead if she's still walking around with her faithful bodyguard."

"...Oh no," Mallory whined as the ghoul's words finally sank in. "You can't be serious."

"I'm perfectly serious. No one will even suspect that the Wanderer's been killed if they see you. If you want to stay alive, you're going to have to put your acting skills to the test. You're going to have to become the Lone Wanderer."


	3. Lacking a Little Finesse

**Author's Note**: Once again, my apologies for the unbelievably long wait for an update. To anyone who's still reading this, I'd like to thank you for hanging in for so long. To those new readers, a friendly hello, and I hope you'll enjoy the ride. ^_^ Here's an extra long update for ya.  
Extremely impressed and surprised at the amount of good reviews I'm getting. It makes me happy to know my little brain farts are proving entertaining to you all. I figure now's a good time as any to start actually replying to them, and you can find said replies beloooow, so you don't have to scroll past them to get to the story. I know, I'm so clever.  
As usual, non-beta'd, so if you see any mistakes just, like, punt them out of your way, or something.  
ALSO I own absolutely nothing mentioned in the following document. Everything belongs to their collective owners, I'm simply taking it and going on a joyride. xD Yes.  
Here's to more speedier updates and many more chapters of amusing, entertaining...stuff.

Enjoy.

* * *

But it's too late to turn back now  
It's too loud to hear a sound  
I'm so lost I can't be found  
It's too late to turn back now

It's hard to focus when your life is a blur  
It's hard to see the truth  
How can I move on when there's so much to learn  
And every road comes back to you

_-Too Late -Dead By Sunrise_

Chapter 3

Charon may have been excited and relieved to reach Megaton, I, on the other hand, was downright scared. From the outside, the place looked dangerous and mysterious and, well, more than a little bit creepy. Really, though, who builds a big metal city in the shape of a mussel? And, to make matters worse, there was no way I could drive my Challenger into and around the city, so I was forced to leave it outside. Not that I was worried anyone was going to steal it (Charon had reassured me many times that no one would touch my car), but those grimy 'merchants' loitering outside the gate certainly didn't help matters. Oh, and speaking of the gates...let's just say I've come to the conclusion that every place needs gates like those.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The makeshift door clanged shut behind them, and Mallory stood in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust as Charon pushed past her and headed for the far corner of the room. Sunlight sprinkled in through a myriad of holes in the walls and ceiling and, despite the otherwise dim lighting of the 'house', allowed her to clearly make out the interior of the shack, for that was truly what it was. Nothing more than a misshapen assortment of corrugated siding and metal panels and other random pieces of metal and wood slapped together to form a relatively stable box.

The floor, she noticed, was also made of slabs of metal and was thick with dust and grime that lifted up in the beams of sunlight like a thin golden cloud. A table of some sort sat to her left, covered with tools and clamps and other things that she hadn't bothered to learn the names of. In the middle of the room sat perhaps the one thing she could appreciate, a large, heart-shaped bed, covered in thick velvet sheets with similar velvet pillows. Directly beside it was a table, on which a complete collection of bobble heads were displayed. Behind that, in a corner and beside a deteriorating set of lockers, a derelict chair slouched tiredly against the wall, it's upholstery faded and ripping with age. Along the opposite end of the room, a shelf lined a stairwell, which reached up into the unknown upper floor of the shack. The shelf was filled with all sorts of nick-knacks and miscellaneous goods. In the back of the shack, Mallory spied several shelves that looked to be stacked with random bottles of beverages and packages of food. Her gaze travelled upward, following the main source of light in the dimly lit building, to a...questionable... light fixture.

This 'Lone Wanderer' person certainly didn't share her tastes in decoration.

Charon strode over to the ruined armchair and sat heavily into it, ignoring the tired sigh the cushion emitted, propping his chin up on his arm and staring off into space.

Mallory watched him nervously for a few minutes, as the uncomfortable silence built, before clearing her throat and stepping cautiously further into the room.

"So..." she mused, twiddling her thumbs as she sidestepped the thicker patches of dust, "what's the pla-"

"Shh. I'm trying to think."

She watched him stare into the distance, brow furrowed, fingers drumming impatiently against the arm of the chair.

"For some reason... I get the feeling that you're more of a do-er than a think-er."

That earned her a frustrated glare, and Mallory decided it be best to entertain herself with whatever objects the late Lone Wanderer had collected rather than infuriate the ghoul any more than he already was. After all, she had questions she wanted answered, and she figured the less angry and impatient Charon was, the more she was going to get out of him.

He had ushered her through the mechanical gates (which she thought were easily the coolest things ever), into the city, and up the metal steps into the large makeshift shack, throwing her dangerous glares all the while to discourage her from asking stupid questions. And she hadn't. She'd kept her head down, held her tongue, and followed Mr. Flaky like the obedient city girl she was.

Even though she was certain she'd seen a two-headed cow down the street.

Mallory frowned at the memory as she studied an old whiskey bottle that sat on the shelf. From what she remembered from her days in High school, not even Nevada had flaking, decomposing men, and two-headed cows. She also couldn't remember seeing any doors that looked like the mechanical ones leading into Megaton before, and, even if she was in some abandoned wasteland, surely there would be some vehicles around that looked like they ran at least a couple decades ago.

That dreadful feeling that everything around her was, in fact, not her imagination, but the all too dangerous and gripping thing known as reality, grew inside her, making her stomach turn and twist and her head throb at the sheer...impossibility... of such a thing. One does not simply warp from one place to another, right? It had to be a dream or an illusion or... something, right? But, if that was the case, why did the things she saw and smelled and touched seem so real?

Hey... Wait a minute...

"Is this... part of someone's brain?" she asked, holding up a small jar of preserve, in which floated a pinkish-grey lump of wrinkly... something. She held it close to her face, scrutinizing it through the cloudy liquid and dirty glass jar.

"Don't touch anything," came Charon's curt reply. Startled, Mallory juggled the jar in her hands for a few seconds, before catching it on the tips of her fingers and quickly placing it back on the shelf. Smiling sheepishly, she turned back to Charon.

The ghoul had sat up in his armchair, cloudy eyes fixing her with an unreadable glare. He propped his elbows on his knees, clasped his peeling hands together, and rested his chin upon them.

"Done thinking?" she asked, scooting away from the shelf of valuable, breakable things.

"Maybe," he relinquished with a nod, "I thought it would be best if I cleared up your questions first. I don't need you yakking your head off when I'm trying to go over the finer points of my plan."

"So you _can_ be polite."

"Don't push it," he sighed, staring skywards. "Questions. Now."

"Alright... Is this place, everything... is it real?"

"Yes," Charon nodded patiently, "as real as you or I."

"But, it doesn't seem real," the girl frowned, eyes travelling along the walls of the shack. "I mean, sometimes it starts to, and then I see something that's...just not possible, and I get all confused again. How, or when, will I know it's real?"

"Oh, you will," the ghoul sighed, "trust me, everything will become all to real to you in time. Next."

"Next? Ah, oh... why are you helping me? You could have killed me, and left me with that... that girl, and gone on your merry way. But you didn't. Why?"

"Because I couldn't," he replied, the first signs of emotion flitting across his face since they left the girl's body in the desert sands. "I have a contract and, as much as I hate to say it, it rests in your hands now."

"A contract? But... why? For what?"

"'Why' and 'what' don't concern you. It's my business, and I don't see any reason to make it yours just yet. The bottom line is, that contract happens to be very important to me. Whoever holds it becomes my responsibility. I am to serve them until either they relinquish my contract to someone else, or they themselves perish."

"But, if you have to serve me, then why are you bossing me around?" Mallory asked, feeling a sort of indignation swell up in her stomach... or maybe that was the Chinese food. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

Charon fixed her with a steady, stoic glare. "If you think you'd be safer off ordering me around and prancing off into the wasteland like a happy little fairy, by all means, do so. I, however, figured it might be best if you received a few tips and pointers and answers beforehand. How I teach you shouldn't matter to you at all, you should be glad anyone's taking the time out of their miserable existence to provide you with knowledge, rather than cutting you into bacon-wrapped human filets."

"Point taken," she nodded apologetically, "but that still doesn't explain why you saved _me_. Why you didn't just take your contract and move onto to someone else."

"I didn't feel like hunting around for another person to whom to entrust my contract with," he shrugged. "I think you're missing the point here, this contract isn't just a simple little terms of use or legal thing, having no one in charge of it is... a very uncomfortable thing, for me. So, yes, I jumped at saving your ass because, believe it or not, there a far worse masters out there than a lost, confused, teenage girl."

"I'm not a teenager," she huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm twenty-two."

Charon eyed her incredulously. "Twenty-two? What, do you eat babies for breakfast or something? Whatever happened to people looking their age?"

Mallory was about to make a snide remark about how much taking care of one's complexion can help their appearance, but figured she was facing the wrong audience for such a remark. "So, that's why you helped me out back there, and why you're helping me now?" she asked, instead. "So you won't get landed with someone worse?"

"That about sums it up," he nodded, rising from his seat.

"...Is that all that other girl, the 'Lone Wanderer', is that all she was? Just one 'master' saving your contract from falling into the hands of a worse person? Like, you aren't mad at me or anything, right?"

The ghoul stared at her for almost a solid minute, clouded eyes narrowed and impatient and angry, and Mallory instantly regretted opening her big, stupid mouth. She shuffled a few steps back to the door, wondering if she could reach the city gates and her Challenger before Charon. When suddenly, the ghoul sighed, and turned his attention to the floor.

"I think maybe you should head upstairs," he spoke, raspy voice barely higher than a whisper. "There are things up there you need to familiarize yourself with in the future."

Nodding meekly, Mallory turned to the stairwell, only to bump into-

"Good evening, madame."

"Bwaaaah!" Mallory yelled, leaping away from the staircase, and the thing that had floated down it, and scuttling backwards on the floor. The 'thing' in question appeared to be a robot of some kind, if robots here usually have three eyeball things and three tentacles and floated on what appeared to be a big pocket of steam.

Then her gaze travelled to one of it's three tentacle-like arms, on which a deadly looking circular saw was attached. Its rusted and grimy blade gleamed faintly in the dim light.

That...can't be good.

"Oh for the love of," she heard Charon grumble. "Wadsworth, you don't mind giving us a minute?"

"Of course, sir," the robot replied, English accent further shocking Mallory, who was attempting to pick herself up off the floor. The robot, or Wadsworth, if that was his name, drifted toward the back of the shack, one stalk-like eye turned backwards to stare at her. Charon strode briskly towards her, grabbed her by her elbow, and began dragging her towards the stairs.

"Upstairs. Now," he grumbled.

"Really? I had no idea that's where we were going."

They reached the upstairs landing, upon which Charon let go of her elbow, sending Mallory into an arm-waving, leg tangling, stumble into the opposite wall. She recovered her balance and threw the ghoul an indignant and confused glare.

"What was that for?" Mallory demanded.

"What did I tell you about freaking out?"

"Uh, you'd freak out too if you ran right into Bulbous Terminator."

"That was just Wadsworth. You know, the 'robo-butler'."

"Robo-bu-oh, cool," she grinned, eye as bright and shiny as those of a kid in a candy store, "I've always wanted a butler. Only...what's that saw for? Does he kill stuff, too?"

"Hardly," Charon scoffed, "it was just one of the attachments the creator of the Mr. Handy's thought necessary. He does use it to open whiskey bottles from time to time, though. Now come on," the ghoul strode across the landing, "we have a lot of work to do."

It was then that Mallory took the time to survey the upper level of the metal shack. The second floor was laid out in a crude 'u' shape, with the landing the stairwell opened into being the largest part of the floor. Two rooms occupied this particular space, one opposite the stairs, with a firmly shut metal door, the other room sat just to the right of the closed room, and appeared to be lacking a door entirely. As she followed Charon into the open room, Mallory had a better look at the contents of the small office/bedroom. For that was probably what the space was intended for, as a desk, filing cabinet, and small bed had been crammed into the equally tiny room. But that wasn't all she saw...

Weapons. Weapons everywhere.

Mallory stood in the entry way, mouth hanging open like a suffocating fish, as her eyes travelled over the surface of the desk. Alright, so maybe weapons weren't everywhere, but the desk was certainly covered in all sorts of pistols and rifles and knives and...things Mallory didn't exactly have a name for.

"What...what's all this for?" she said in a small voice, gesturing at the menagerie of killing supplies. "Surely these aren't all...yours?"

"Not mine," Charon nodded, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, "they belonged to the Lone Wanderer. And now they belong to you."

"But...why would I want a desk covered in pistols and knives and other...junk?"

"Because these pieces of 'junk' are the most important tools of survival out here in the wasteland. They help hunters gather food, are a scavenger's best companion when exploring abandoned sites, and may very well save your life some day," Charon picked up a pistol, inspected it, and handed it over to Mallory. "You do know how to shoot a gun, right?"

"Pssh, of course I do," she scoffed, gingerly plucking the weapon from Charon's hands before cautiously fiddling with it. "You, uh, you pull this thingy back, and then you, well, mess with this, I think, and then-Whoa!"

She jumped, startled as the gun unexpectedly went off. Mallory's shocked gaze travelled from the smoking barrel of the pistol she held in her shaking hands, down its probable trajectory, and finally at Charon. The ghoul was standing stiff and still in front of the wall, glassy eyes wide and full of shock, for once.

No doubt that had something to do with the smoking hole in the wall a few scant inches from his head.

The pistol clattered to the ground as Mallory's hands flew to her mouth. "Ohmaigawd," she squeaked through her hands, "I'm so sorry, I totally didn't mean to almost shoot you, I swear. I really don't usually kill or almost kill people on a regular basis, I am so, so, so sorry..."

Slowly, Charon turned his gaze sideways to stare at the new hole in the building's ramshackle metal walls. "Well..." he started, raspy voice lowered to barely a whisper, "at least now we know you can shoot."

oOoOoOoOoOo

"So, this is...target practice?" Mallory asked, surveying the outside of Megaton's patchwork metal walls. It was still nighttime but, despite the obvious lack of sunlight, the wasteland around her was still relatively visible. The light from the moon made everything varying shades of grey and, though it was still too dark for her to make out any colours, she could see rather well. Though she wasn't quite certain she could see well enough to fire a weapon, and she wondered what Charon was thinking. Obviously, after the fiasco in the metal shack, shouldn't he know better than to have her firing off a gun in the middle of the night.

"Something like that," he answered, heading towards the back of the city, with Mallory struggling to keep up without accidentally firing the pistol she still held, again.

"But...it's dark."

"How very perceptive of you."

"Wouldn't it, you know, be kind of hard to shoot targets in the dark? I mean, there's no light out here."

"Out there in the wasteland, you can't choose when you'll have to defend yourself. You have to become used to handling weapons and doing anything at night. It may be uncomfortable at first, but this training will hopefully help you stay cool and collected in any situation... _Hopefully_."

"Ah, okay, I guess that makes sense," she nodded, "so, uh, where's the targets?"

"Targets?"

"You know, targets. Cans, cardboard, paper, stuff you shoot at. Targets."

"No stationary stuff. Working with moving, living targets."

"What?" Mallory squeaked, almost stopping dead in her tracks. "But-but...living stuff, when it gets shot at, doesn't that kind of, you know, make it go into a mad frenzy, blood lust sort of thing?"

"Well that's what that's for," Charon nodded towards her pistol.

"But...I hardly know anything about guns-"

"You shot that pistol, that's enough of a first lesson right there."

"And if I can't shoot...whatever it is I'm shooting at? Then what?"

"Then you obviously need more help than I thought. Stop," he motioned to her as he halted and crouched low to the ground. "See those moving things up ahead?" he asked, pointing to a few pale blobs, "those are mole rats, your first target."

"Mole rats? Like...rodents?"

"Yep."

"Kind of big for rodents, though, right? I mean...they're much larger than your average rat, you know?"

"Maybe, but they're one of the easiest things to shoot and kill out here. They need to get right to you to hurt you at all, and they can't run that fast. Should be able to handle it," he patted her on the shoulder and stood up.

"Okay, but, uh, where are _you_ going?" she asked, voice dropping to a whisper, "you can't just leave me out here."

"I won't, I'll be right over there, on that rock," he nodded towards a ridge of rocks along Megaton's wall, "you know what to do, anyway, just line up the sights, steady your aim, and shoot them. It's that simple."

"Okay, alright," she answered in a small voice as Charon strode over to the rocks. She lifted the shaking pistol, levelled it sightly, took a deep breath that was meant to calm her nerves but succeeded only in making her more nervous, and pulled the trigger.

The resulting crack of gunfire was no less frightening this time, just because she was expecting it. She let out a yelp and landed backwards onto her behind, pistol still clutched in her hand. Blinking dumbly ahead, it took her a few good seconds to get her wits about her and see if she managed to take out one of the large, pale rodents.

To her utter dismay, she hadn't, both mole rats were still alive and well.

To her utter fright, they were also well enough, and angry enough, to come charging after her, large buck teeth bared in a ferocious snarl.

"WAAAAHHH!" she yelled, scrabbling on the ground as she tried to climb to her feet. Slipping and stumbling on the dusty ground, she managed to climb to her feet and lurch into a klutzy run. Charon yelled something about her pistol and, remembering she actually had a weapon on her, Mallory turned to confront the charging rodents.

And quickly squealed, turned around, and resumed her retreat when she noticed just how _close _the mole rats had gotten. She spied the blackened carcass of a tree, standing mostly limbless next to a ridge of rocks, and made for it. She scrambled onto the rocky boulders and then clumsily scuttled up the tree, squeaking in fright whenever a limb cracked off under her feet, before reaching the tapered tip of the dead, black mass.

Below her, the mole rats had reached her tree, and were snarling and squeaking angrily as they jumped and snapped at the long, duster coat she wore. She yelped again as a limb snapped under her feet and she was left scrambling for another foothold. Bracing herself against the tree, she levelled her pistol at the rats and let off several rounds. One of them dropped to the ground, before climbing back to its feet, bleeding from its left flank. The other remained untouched. Her fear quickly becoming replaced with anger and a need to survive, Mallory once again levelled her pistol at the rats.

_Click. _

Out of bullets.

"This can't be happening," she whimpered, slamming the gun against the tree before pulling the trigger again. Still the same hollow click as before. She threw the pistol at the mole rats, hoping somehow it might scare them off, but to no avail. They remained glued to the base of her tree, which was quickly falling apart under her, and continued to snap and bite at her heels and the hem of her long jacket. And now, she didn't even have a weapon with which to defend herself with.

'_So this is it_,' she thought humorlessly, 'I_'m going to be eaten alive by the mutated cousins of Pink and the Brain. __This is totally how I wanted to spend my night, just-_'

She gasped as two small explosions sounded to her right and, one after another, the heads of the mole rats burst in twin clouds of blood and gore. Little pieces of brains and skull and blood rained from the sky for a few seconds, landing liberally around Mallory's tree and on her, and then all was quiet.

Mallory hung there, gasping quietly and still clutching the tree, for a few more seconds. She was having some trouble coming to terms with how on earth the heads of two giant mole rats could simply disintegrate, when she saw Charon climbing down from his rock, setting his shotgun against his back, and looking none too pleased with her.

"Aha, hey," she smiled nervously, scrambling for a better purchase against her tree, "those, uh, mole rats, pretty vicious, huh? And mean too, holy cow-"

"That was pathetic," the ghoul deadpanned, "a complete and total gong show."

"You said they weren't fast!"

"There are far faster, and meaner, things out here. I started you off easy."

"I could have died!"

"You will if you don't get down off that tree."

"Oh...yeah..." Mallory glanced down to the ground, swallowing thickly. "I, uh... I don't think I can get down."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't do heights too well."

"...What?" Charon gaped, looking uncharacteristically shocked for the second time that night. "You're hardly five feet off the ground!"

"It looks really, really high," she whined, tentatively waving a foot into the thin air beneath her before quickly placing it back on its rickety foothold. "Could you, maybe, roll that rock over here? Maybe I can climb down on it... You know?"

"...You're serious?" came the incredulous reply as Charon continued to stare at her. "You really can't get down?"

"I know, and I'm sorry. It's a thing I've been dealing with, you know? Fell off a swing when I was a kid, got my knee all scraped up. It's just...really hard to live with you know-hey, where are you going?"

"I'm done," Charon answered, waving his arms in the air as he turned back towards Megaton. "There's not enough time in a millennium to get you to where you need to be."

"But, you can't just _leave_ me here!" Mallory cried, hugging the tree for dear life. "What am I supposed to do out here on my own?"

"Start by getting down off that tree," he yelled back, "then I might reconsider helping you. _Might_."

"Charon!" she shouted, scrambling for purchase once again as another limb broke off. "Charon, come back here! Charon? CHARON!"

oOoOoOoOoOo

Colonel Autumn frowned as his vertibird hovered over the dry, lifeless expanse of the wasteland. If his scientists were correct, then this was the exact place where the malfunction occurred, only... there was nothing here. No sign at all that a portal had opened in this area mere hours ago.

"Are you sure these are the correct coordinates?" he asked the Enclave scientist seated opposite him. She jumped slightly, before scrutinizing the clipboard she held.

"Y-yes, sir, this is exactly where our sensors detected the opening of a new portal," she replied, flipping through some pages. "At exactly 1700 hours our computers picked up larger than normal readings of-"

"I'm aware of the details, thank you," the Colonel replied coolly as he returned his gaze to outside his window. The vertibird began its slow descent, and Autumn scanned the ground below him. Normally, the portals they managed to open back at the base gave off a large explosion of energy upon manifesting, enough to leave a noticeable crater and a large burn mark upon the ground. This area, he noted, was lacking both those signs, in fact, it seemed this portal was far more stable than any they had managed to create before. They had finally managed to make a functional, inter dimensional wormhole, though it seems they had sacrificed control of its location to achieve such a feat.

'_Oh well_,' he thought as the vertibird touched down and he stood from his seat, '_we're over halfway there now. Won't be long before we manage to create stable, predictable wormholes_.'

He exited the machine as a group of Enclave soldiers climbed out and set about securing the perimeter of the area. His team of scientists followed behind him, arms full of clipboards and capsules and test tubes, and began taking soil samples of the ground closest to the presumed site of the portal. Autumn frowned as he surveyed the scene, this could very well be their first stable wormhole, and they may have nothing more to show for it than a few piles of dry sand that exhibited stranger than normal readings.

His gaze fell on something pale and lumpy lying amongst the dry, yellowing bushes just a few dozen yards away. It wasn't moving, but Autumn's heart rate quickened nonetheless. Had something actually come _through_ the portal? From the other side? Or perhaps it was just another hapless victim of the wasteland, just a coincidence to mess with his head.

Either way...

"Soldier!" he barked, waving over one of his Enclave troops. The soldier rushed over, saluting smartly as he stood to attention.

"Sir!"

"Investigate that," the Colonel nodded towards the pale lump. The soldier nodded and strode quickly over to the object in question, nudging it with his foot before turning back to Colonel Autumn.

"It appears to be a body, Sir!" the soldier called back. Autumn's frown deepened as he headed towards the body. Perhaps this was the break they were all hoping for. A glimpse of the technology of a still-living Earth. Valuable information, just within his grasp.

He was extremely disappointed when he saw that it was not the technological breakthrough he had been hoping for, but instead just another wastelander, judging from the underclothes she wore and the wear and tear wastelanders usually sported. Sighing deeply, he rolled the body over with his boot.

And froze.

That face... that face he would know anywhere. The poster child of human rights in the Wasteland, the one who challenged raiders and super mutants and other enemies of free peoples, the one who would lend a hand to any good person who needed assistance, the one who was believed to the wasteland's 'one true Messiah'. The one whose face many people don't remember, for it was her name that mattered in this day and age, the same name quoted over and over again on the radio.

The Lone Wanderer.

Again, confusion and disbelief crossed Autumn's face. Surely, if this truly were the body of the Lone Wanderer, then everyone in the Wasteland and their dog would know about it. Someone like the Wanderer simply doesn't die namelessly in the middle of the barren desert, someone would know, and pass that knowledge along.

"Check the Galaxy News Radio station," he addressed the soldier standing beside him, who snapped to attention and activated his radio. "Check for any news of the Lone Wanderer, namely anything regarding her death."

After a few seconds of what seemed to the Colonel as unbearable silence, the soldier shook his head. "According to Three Dog, the Lone Wanderer is alive and well, sir, helping find some boy named Brian Wil-"

"Yes, yes, I know," Autumn snapped, glaring down at the body laying before him. Something wasn't right with this picture. He was missing something, he just didn't know what, yet. There had to be some clues here, something that could point him in the right direction.

And then he saw it.

A strange pattern imprinted in the dry ground just beyond the edge of the dry brush. Only about a foot long at the most, the pattern and the imprint would be nothing unusual to see in the Capital before the Great War. They were left along every road, every street, every curb in every city. In this era, however, tire tracks were an extremely rare sight to see, particularly fresh ones.

Colonel Autumn crouched next to the small jagged imprint, carefully tracing the pattern with a finger. He looked around for any continuation of the tire track, but it seemed the unending desert wind swept them away. The only reason this small patch of track survived at all was probably because the dried brush protected it from the majority of the wind. It won't be long, however, before it too disappeared.

Colonel Autumn straightened up, gesturing at his group of scientists. "I want plaster casts of that track made at once," he commanded, pointing towards the indentation, "and I want that body secured and sent back to our laboratories, DNA samples extracted, and promptly preserved. Understood?"

A chorus of 'yes sir's met his ears as the scientists got to work. The Colonel let his eyes wander over the wide expanse of the wasteland. He felt on the verge of a great discovery, one that could very well grant the Enclave access to unlimited technology, a vast well of knowledge, and the wealth needed to fund all of their further endeavours.

There was the small issue of this mystery he had to deal with in the meantime, and as Autumn's men gathered up the body in a large black bag and extracted the cast of the track imprint, the Colonel felt he was on the verge of a similar breakthrough.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Snarling angrily, Mallory stomped up the metal steps towards the ramshackle house. After whining and whimpering for a good quarter hour, she'd finally managed to work her way down the tree (read: the tree practically fell apart underneath her) and, after practically sprinting back towards the safety of Megaton, decided she'd really quite had enough of it all and that it was time to give Charon a piece of her mind.

Said frustration almost vanished when she slammed open the door to reveal the ghoul in question reclining comfortably in the old armchair, reading something about a jerky vendor.

"So," he said calmly, flipping the page, "you made it back, finally."

Mallory could do little more than blink in shock for a few seconds. "You weren't even worried about me?" she gaped, stepping inside the shack and closing the door quietly behind her. "You left me out there, and you weren't even worried at all?"

"Of course not," Charon replied coolly, flipping another page, "why would I be worried?"

"Oh, I don't know," she answered sarcastically, plopping down on the large heart-shaped bed and trying to ignore the cloud of dust that it emitted as she did so. "Maybe because I'd just gotten chased up a tree by giant naked rats who tried to eat me." she sniffed, picking disgustedly at her long leather duster. "Their heads exploded, and now I got rat blood on my jacket and in my hair and I got people blood everywhere, I killed a person in my car, almost shot someone else, I'm stuck here in this metal shoebox in a haphazard looking city with a two-headed cow down the road, and I really think I have no idea where I am," she sniffled again, resisting the urge to wipe her nose with her grimy sleeve. "So, yeah... _I'm_ worried."

"You and me both," she heard the ghoul mutter under his breath. Charon closed the book and sat up in the chair, leaning towards her. "Alright, I'm not all that good at the sympathetic emotional shit," he started, a little awkwardly, "but I want answers just as much as you do, and I don't want you here anymore than you want to be here. If you want my help, you have it, but I need your help, too. This isn't a one-man-show, never has been. You're going to need to trust me, just as I'm going to put my trust in you some day. You got out of that tree on your own, right?"

"...Right," Mallory conceded with a wet sniff.

"You're going to have to do a lot of stuff on your own, I won't be there to do everything for you all the time. The wasteland is a dangerous, unpredictable place, anything can happen out there. If someone bad happened, and you were left alone, you'd have to know how to take care of yourself. The right and wrong things to do. Understand?"

Numbly, Mallory nodded, wiping her nose on her not so dirty undershirt. Charon seemed satisfied with that response, and strode over to the lockers on the opposite end of the room. He pulled a strange looking sleeved device from within one of the lockers and passed it over to Mallory.

"Here," he said as he threw it. "Your main tool of the trade."

She caught it somewhat clumsily, inspecting it closely. It appeared to be some sort of computer screen attached to a large metal sleeve, lined with fabric. There were a few buttons beneath the screen, and two dials lined the edge of the sleeve. "What is it?"

"What does it look like?"

"I don't know," she frowned as she slipped it on her left arm. It turned on, and the screen lit up, showing a little cartoon man with different percentages attached to certain parts of his bodies. She fiddled with the buttons and the image on the screen switched to a new one. "iPod from Hell?"

"It's a Pipboy," Charon explained patiently, "one of the many things RobCo invented before the Great War. It can showcase damage to your limbs, radiation you've received so far, has a detailed map of the Wasteland, radio, and lists all items you're carrying, which is extremely useful for keeping track of your weapons and what not. I honestly hadn't planned to give it to you for some time."

"This is so cool," Mallory gushed as she fiddled with the device. "Wait, if you hadn't planned on giving this to me for a while, what changed your mind?"

"It helps catalogue and keep track of items."

"Yeah, I heard that part."

"...And where's the pistol I gave you?"

"It's...oh," she winced as she remembered her pistol, laying abandoned at the base of that tree, under the headless bodies of the mole rats. "Yeah...I can see why you think I may need this."

Charon nodded, turning back to the lockers and rummaging around in them. Mallory turned her attention back to the Pipboy, fiddling with the buttons and flicking through the screen. She played around with the map a bit, noticing that the little computer was actually a touch screen, at least on the map menu. She managed to find Megaton and took a quick look over the neighbouring map markers, Springvale, and some place called 'Vault 101', before moving her attention to the barren spot just west of Megaton. It was difficult for her to believe that this...that everything started in that spot only a few hours ago.

"Did this...belong to her, too?" she asked in a small, quiet voice.

"...Yeah," he answered after a few moments of awkward silence. Mallory flicked back to the default status screen, observing the ghoul carefully. She was never very good at voicing things properly, the proper words never really seemed to come to her. What made conversing with Charon even more difficult was the fact that she believed the ghoul was the same way. They both preferred the calm silence of understanding, but it was hard to achieve that comfortable silence if one just didn't understand to begin with.

"I'm guessing you two were...pretty close?" she asked quietly, cautiously. Charon's back straightened, became more rigid, and he turned half his face towards her.

"We were friends," he admitted, shrugging slightly, as though that would lighten the somber atmosphere that recently claimed the metal shack. "Things got...better for me when she purchased my contract. After that, I realized that there were actually...not so bad people out there."

Mallory frowned and nodded slowly, staring back down at the Pipboy. "You know...if it helps..." she mused tentatively, "you can get mad, you know? I don't mind, in fact, I probably deserve it. I guess...I'm trying to say I'm sorry?"

"I know," Charon nodded, looking back at the lockers, "but neither that or my getting mad would really change anything. If anything, blowing my top would probably only land us in hot water. Why would I put effort into something that won't help either of us in the end?"

'Because it's the natural thing to do? To get mad or upset,' Mallory thought, but resigned herself to simply nodding instead. Exhaustion was finally beginning to catch up to her and, as she looked at the Pipboy again, she felt her eyelids drooping, and a yawn building in her throat.

"You should probably head upstairs," Charon sighed, closing the locker he had been rummaging in. "Get some sleep, we still have a lot to do in the morning. We also still need to figure out our next plan of action."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Mallory mumbled, making her way towards the stairs. "Wait," she stopped, frowning slightly, "Upstairs? But I wanted to sleep on the big velvet heart bed thing."

"Suit yourself," the ghoul shrugged nonchalantly, "but if Wadsworth floats over you in the middle of the night, don't come crying to me."

Mallory blinked, looking from the heart-shaped bed to the stairs and back. "On second thought," she mused, "I think I'll sleep upstairs."

Charon nodded as Mallory clamoured up the steps, before looking sideways at the large bed. "Sucker," he muttered to himself.

"Whoa!" Mallory shouted from above, making Charon jump slightly and eye the upper floor suspiciously. "This house has a pop machine?"

* * *

Author's Note (Cont'd): And the plot thickens like grandma's old fashioned pea soup.

Anyway, here be the replies. 8D

**DestinyIntertwined**: Thanks a bunch for the positive feedback, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it so far! Hoping I don't disappoint ya with the upcoming chapters, and I hope I can keep the updates pretty regular from now on! ^-^  
**Teufelszeug**: You asked some very good questions there, and I assure they will be answered (or at least mostly answered) in time. ;D And I'm glad that my concept of inter-dimensional travel seems believable! xD That's the result I was aiming for. Thanks for the lengthy and well written review!  
**Starlight825**: Thanks! Glad you're liking the tale so far. ^o^  
**AIDSwolf**: Your review actually made me laugh. xD Thanks! But, sowwy, no Ashton here. x'D


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